


Am I the one you think about?

by downlookingup



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dating, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downlookingup/pseuds/downlookingup
Summary: Brienne goes on a bad date.





	Am I the one you think about?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glamaphonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamaphonic/gifts).



> On Tumblr, glamaphonic requested: "You’re my waiter and I’m on a really crappy date with an asshole".

Brienne watched in horror as the tomato soup flew out of Jaime’s hands and landed squarely on Ron’s lap, staining his khakis.

“What the fuck!” Ron shouted, jumping to his feet. “You godsdamned idiot!”

“I’m _so_  sorry, sir!” Jaime grabbed a napkin and started patting ineffectively at Ron’s crotch. Ron snatched the napkin away with a grimace of disgust.

“I’ve been to every Mopatis-starred restaurant in King’s Landing,” Ron snapped, “and I’ve never had such appalling service.”

Jaime gave him a pitying smile, and Brienne didn’t know whether she wanted to slap him or kiss him. Her landlord was the most infuriating person she’d ever met… until tonight.

“I’m truly sorry your experience hasn’t lived up to your expectations,” Jaime said, a hand pressed mockingly to his heart. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

Ron threw the soup-stained napkin at Jaime’s chest and sat down. “You can comp my meal, that’s what you can do.”

“Ohh, I’m not sure I can do that…”

Ron’s face flushed until it almost matched his hair. Brienne didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone so furious.

“Get me your manager,” he said, through gritted teeth. “We’ll see what he has to say about that.”

Brienne sucked in a breath. Ron had no idea, did he?

Jaime grinned. “Absolutely. Be right back.” He disappeared into the kitchen, and Brienne realized the entire restaurant was staring at them in silence.

She covered half her face with her hand. “Ron, let’s just go,” she whispered. “I’ll pay for my half.”

He glared at her, insulted by the suggestion. “I’m not paying a single fucking copper star,” he snapped.

“You don’t understand. Jaime’s––”

“How can I help you, sir?”

Jaime stood next to their table, a cocky grin on his face. He’d taken off the server’s apron and put on an expensive-looking sports coat. He looked, quite frankly, like a million gold dragons.

Ron huffed. “I said, I want to see the manager.”

“I _am_  the manager. _And_  the owner.”

Realization crept over Ron’s face. He paled. “You––” He gaped at Brienne. “You knew. You two have been playing tricks on me all night. You ugly bi––”

Jaime slammed his palm on the table. “Hey! Watch your fucking mouth. She had nothing to do with this.”

Ron stood up. He was several inches shorter than Jaime, but he looked mad enough to make up for it. “I’m calling Illyrio Mopatis myself. He’ll take away that three-star rating so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”

Jaime let out a deep belly laugh. “Okay, you do that, buddy.”

“And as for you––” Ron pointed accusingly at Brienne. “––good luck finding another man willing to fuck you with the lights on, you hairy––”

Jaime’s fist came out of nowhere, landing square on Ron’s nose. He fell backwards, bringing down a neighboring table, food and all. Someone screamed, “Seven save us!” as Ron lay on the floor, blood spurting out his nose. Jaime dragged him to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

“Congratulations, I’m comping your meal. Now get the fuck out of here and don’t come back.”

Ron brushed Jaime’s hands away and staggered out with a final reproachful look at Brienne.

Brienne’s face was on fire. Everyone was staring, including Jaime. She took deep, cleansing breaths. _Gods, this is so humiliating_. If she started crying in front of all these people, she would just die. She searched in her purse for her wallet. She’d have to pay with a credit card. There was no way she could foot the bill with what was in her checking account.

“How much do I owe you?” she murmured.

“Nothing,” he said with a scoff.

“No, I ate everything, it was delicious. I’d like to pay.”

“Punching that asshole was payment enough.” He gave her a pleased smile, and she decided that, yes, she wanted to slap him.

“What about humiliating me?” she hissed. “Is that payment enough too?”

The smile withered on his face. “Humiliating you? I _saved_  you from a shitty date.”

“I didn’t _need_  your help. I was handling it.”

“He said that, if you changed your hair and put on makeup, you _might_  have a chance at a second date.”

“You spilled a bowl of caviar on his head!”

“He was telling you about how great sex was with his exes!”

“And you hit him with a serving tray!”

“And _then_  he said he thought female cops looked like lesbians!”

“You physically assaulted him! Multiple times!”

Jaime’s jaw tensed. “He had it coming.”

“I should arrest you,” she said, and he held out his hands.

“Go ahead. I’m an unrepentant criminal and a danger to society. I should be put away post-haste.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“I just don’t understand why you would let him say those awful things. Brienne, you’re smart and honorable and successful and––”

“––and ugly. Don’t forget that.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t gonna say––”

“The point is, you had no business interfering with my personal life. If I want to date assholes, that’s my problem, not yours.”

“Maybe I want to _make_  it my problem,” he declared.

A stunned silence followed, and Brienne realized the other diners were listening to their conversation. Again. _Seven hells_. How did he make her forget herself like this?

“Jaime, let’s just––”

“Maybe,” he interrupted, color rising in his cheeks, “I’ve been watching Kyle and that redheaded lumberjack come and go from your apartment and wondering why you’re wasting your time with these idiots who aren’t fit to lick your boots.”

Brienne had no idea he’d even noticed Hyle and Tormund, that he _cared_. “J––Jaime…”

“Maybe I’ve been wondering what I need to do to get you to look at me the way you look at them, like they hung the moon or something.” He was breathing faster now, and damn him, he looked gorgeous like this, his face flushed, his eyes bright. A stab of arousal shot through her. “Maybe when I saw _that dickhead_ ––” he pointed at Ron’s vacant chair, “––talking to you as if you were even the same _species_ , I just couldn’t help myself, ‘cause you deserve better than that. And maybe that’s not me either, but it certainly isn’t _him_.”

Brienne should have been embarrassed by the wave of applause that followed Jaime’s declaration, but she was too busy trying to muffle her sobs with her napkin to bother. How was Jaime to know that Hyle had dumped her because of the way she looked at him, or that she’d thought about his shirtless torso while she’d had sex with Tormund?

A beat passed. Then another.

Jaime shifted uneasily. “Brienne, for the love of the Seven, say something,” he muttered.

Brienne was tired of words. She stood up––keenly aware of the dozens of eyes that followed her every movement and of how blotchy her face must have looked,––grasped Jaime’s neck, and pulled him to her for a kiss. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before wrapping his arms around her waist and crushing her body against his.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, like being touched by a live wire, every nerve ending being brought to life by the feeling of his tongue and teeth and lips and hands, like seeing the fabric of space-time stretched out before her, past, present, and future, and knowing that it had all led to this moment.

When they finally pulled apart, gasping for breath, she saw Jaime’s joyful smile, the one that made her knees weak, and matched it with one of her own. “You could have just asked me out,” she said.

“I was getting to that.”


End file.
